“You can’t eat it, if that’s what you’re asking.” I kiss her briefly, just because I can. “But we can eat afterwards.”
“Fine.” She smiles into the kiss. “Lead the way, handsome.”
15
ROSE
The first thing I see when I reach the bottom of the stairs is a black ball of fur.
For half a second, my brain refuses to process it. Then the small, battered black shape shifts, ears twitching, and lets out a scratchy little sound that I’ve heard a hundred times in alleyways and fire escapes.
My breath catches. “Nori?”
He blinks at me, and then promptly lets out an inquisitive, “Mrrowr?”
I laugh. I actually laugh.
The sound bursts out of me before I can stop it. I drop to my knees and hold out my hands. “Come here, troublemaker.”
He hesitates for exactly one second before hobbling toward me with the lopsided swagger of a cat who has lived too many lives already. He smells like antiseptic and clean fur instead of city grime. Someone’s treated the old wounds on his flank. Someone’s fed him.
Someonecared. Without a doubt, I know whosomeoneis.
Warmth floods my chest so fast it almost hurts.
I scoop Nori up carefully, mindful of the scars, pressing my cheek to his scruffy head. “You’re okay,” I whisper. “You’re actually okay.”
Behind me, footsteps pause on the last stair.
“I take it the reunion is a success,” Matteo says.
I look up at him, smiling so wide my face aches. “You found him.” My voice wobbles. “Youfoundhim.”
“Had my people keep an eye out around your old building,” he says, as if that’s the sort of favor one performs casually. “He showed up last night. Stubborn little bastard tried to bite the guy who picked him up.”
“That would be me,” Ottavio pipes up from the doorway. “I was the guy.”
“That sounds about right,” I half-laugh, half-sob, burying my face in Nori’s fur again. My throat tightens. “Thank you. Both of you. Sorry,” I also add with my gaze pointing to Ottavio.
Matteo shrugs, but there’s softness in his eyes. “You asked for him.”
From the doorway, Wasabi emits the world’s most offended growl.
He stands rigid in the hall, tail puffed, one good eye narrowed at the intruder now clutched to my chest. Nori answers with a bored blink, which somehow makes it worse. A low hiss vibrates through Wasabi like an existential crisis.
“Boys,” I sigh. “We are not starting a turf war before breakfast.”
Wasabi flicks his tail as if to saywatch meand retreats three dignified inches. Which, for him, counts as compromise.
Nori curls deeper into my arms and pretends none of this concerns him.
I look back at Matteo, laughter still tangled with gratitude in my chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s committing the expression on my face to memory. “I wanted to,” he says simply.
The words land deeper than they should.
He steps closer, careful not to spook the feline standoff happening at my feet. His hand finds my waist, warm and familiar, and he leans in to brush a quick kiss against my lips. Soft, brief, more promise than heat.
